


a sun to dissipate the shadows

by ghostsies



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Angst, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Reflection, the heroes settle down, zelda takes a well deserved nap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29765442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostsies/pseuds/ghostsies
Summary: She doesn’t know when he hardened--or, she does, but she wasn’t there to see any of it, and that makes it even more difficult. Zelda knows that she’s hardened, too, even if her father looks at her the same way and her friends expect the same things. Sometimes, more than there ever was, there is a stone in her belly where there was once joy and naivety.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Kudos: 12





	a sun to dissipate the shadows

Zelda remembers being bone weary, parched, burnt. Her skin, not long ago, was rubbed raw by sun and sand and travel, endless travel. But her feet had hardened, and her skin, and her heart. It felt that way, anyhow.

Now, she lays on mossy grass that kisses her feet under a sun whose warmth kisses her face. Everything she’d been through would feel like a dream if it hadn't been so real or affected her so deeply. 

It doesn't matter. That’s what she tells herself.

She’s comfortable now, midday, the sun past its highest peak. Home. This place with its towering trees and enormous lakes feels so much gentler now than it did the first time, when she couldn't see the sky through the canopies and home was up, unreachable, unseen. 

The chirping in the trees and the tickling breeze lull her to sleep. Zelda dozes, allows time to slip past her now that it’s a luxury, and when she feels arms loop around to lift her it’s no longer startling. 

It must be evening now, because as she’s carried she can feel the day's warmth but not the sun. There’s a comforting low hum of chatter and noise. Her home—their home—is no longer the only one in the small village of Skyloft residents who have followed since the surface became safe. 

Zelda nuzzles her face against Link as he carries her and breathes in the familiar scent—wood, grass, and sunshine. Her eyes don't open when he sets her down, but his hand brushes a stray hair from her face, and the silence is as familiar and as much as if he had spoken her name aloud. The bed they share is welcoming, soft, and Zelda rolls onto the side that smells like Link. 

She sighs. A fire crackles, warm and quiet. She knows, by this sound and the sound of Link shuffling in the kitchen, that she’ll smell food soon. 

Everything has changed. Some things do matter, as much as she tries to tell herself otherwise. 

She doesn’t know when he hardened--or, she does, but she wasn’t there to see any of it, and that makes it even more difficult. Zelda knows that she’s hardened, too, even if her father looks at her the same way and her friends expect the same things. Sometimes, more than there ever was, there is a stone in her belly where there was once joy and naivety. 

Because she remembers all too vividly those lonesome walks, even with Impa beside her, and every time Zelda remembered more of Hylia, of herself, the more eager she was to rip off her white dress and scrub at her skin like it could change anything. Zelda tries to tell herself she did the best she could. But she had been fine being Zelda and Hylia had been an unwelcome stranger. 

When she saw Link again after her journey began, she first noticed his shift in energy. The way he watches as she leaves, again, turning an accident into a game of tag that Zelda knows hurts them both. Seeing him was a comfort, at least at first. It meant she could tell herself he was still safe. Eventually, though, when she sees him it brings flashes of a distant memory that makes her feel as if she was just holding him, his blood covering her hands, arms, chest. His guttural, gasping breaths and glazed eyes, reflecting only the clear blue sky and not any of his spirit. Impa worked to reassure her that the hero’s broken body was why Zelda was here now, in this life, trying desperately to keep it all from happening again. 

The Link Zelda knows, the Link of this time, always wakes her from those bad dreams. His warmth and his breath are something Zelda is never able to take for granted again. 

Regardless, this Link’s smooth edges have sharpened. He's always been sturdy but now he stands like a tree, noble, his feet planted, and always sure. A man. Zelda wonders about the boy she knew when she notices the scars flecked across his body the first time they jump into the lake together. She wonders about the terrible causes of some of those scars so ragged and deep it’s too painful for him to speak of them. She wonders about his pain when he lies sleepless at night, haunted by his own experience. He hasn’t been able to speak about much of it, really, and she knows it still burdens him. 

Like it burdens them both. 

But it doesn’t matter now. This is what she tells herself. 

Presently, she can hear Link stoking the fire, a sizzle as something meets the heat. She nuzzles further into the bed, stretching out and breathing in the contentedness of the moment—because she finally can. 

There are, certainly, welcome changes that come with the man he is now. She knows how his lips feel against her own, soft and yielding while the rest of him is firm. How his skin feels against hers, scars and calluses rough under her hands, which seem too soft in comparison. They know what it’s like to love each other, to learn one another, and to have been given the gift of time. 

Now, she feels Link settle on the bed next to her. He gently wipes fallen strands of hair away from her face. 

“Zelda,” he whispers. His voice, soft and gentle, rarely used, is a gift so sweet she finally opens her eyes. 

“Hungry?” Link asks. He smiles, a little boyish, never one to miss a meal. Zelda notices his scars less and less, just the smattering of freckles across his face and the gold of his hair catching the firelight. 

“Just a moment longer, here,” she sighs, and he melts against her when she pulls him close. She feels him laugh quietly, and he wraps her into his arms, tight, where she feels safe and at ease. 

Zelda thinks, without any need to convince herself, that this is what matters most of all.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been in my drafts for years but in honor of the upcoming skyward sword re-release, i dusted it off to publish. i can't wait to play the game again after so long and revisit the whole cast of characters :) i like to think that when all is said and done, our heroes finally find some peace & calm. 
> 
> title from mykonos by fleet foxes, which reminds me a lot of skyward sword's whole story arc. thanks for reading!


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